


Peace in Unlikely Places

by awkwardacity



Series: Countdown to Season Six [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Claudia Stilinski, Gen, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardacity/pseuds/awkwardacity
Summary: To create peace between the remains of the Hale pack and the Argent family, Claudia Stilinski - the Hale emissary - and Chris Argent create a treaty which changes the course of everything.Or the Claudia Stilinski lives and everything is drastically different because of it AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of having two different versions of this story - one where everything is _very_ different to the canon, and one where it's only _fairly_ different. Because this version has become so far from where I intended...  
>  Thoughts?  
> Please review, it feeds my muse :)

From his window, Stiles can see the flames.

They jump and dance, tendrils curling intricately around each other and reaching high above the trees. Smoke clouds what was once a clear, moonlit sky.

The source of the fire is far into the preserve, but the flames burn with the ferocity of writhing, feral animals, an intensity that he knows can't be natural. The colours seem to imprint themselves on the backs of his eyes, and even when he squeezes them shut and turns away- they're still there behind his eyelids, dancing their sick and flickering dance.

His mother doesn't let him near the preserve. "Dangerous creatures lurk in the shadows, _kochanie_ ," she says. "They wait for little boys to wander in alone so they can eat them whole."

It doesn't stop him from doing so, though, and he knows the terrain like the back of his hand. He knows that the mass of fire burning brightly in the distance can be nothing other than the huge house nestled close to the north clearing - the one that the Hale family live in.

When he strains his ears, he thinks he can hear the mournful howling of wolves carrying on the wind. Which is ridiculous, of course. There haven't been wolves in California for almost sixty years.

It's about three in the morning, and Stiles has school tomorrow, but there's no way he could sleep even if he tried. His own house has been a hive of activity ever since the flames blossomed about an hour ago, followed closely by the screech of sirens as his dad left to deal with the emergency.

His mother is downstairs, arguing remarkably loudly with at least two other voices. He can make out nothing more than an indistinct stream of chatter, but it's loud enough that he can tell the tone of the voices. The strangers: worried, tense. His mother: angry. Furious, even - he doesn't think he's ever heard her like this before, not even when he accidentally smashed her Venetian glass vase three weeks ago.

He has no doubt it's no coincidence that this argument and the fire are occurring on the same night.

He's just weighing up the merits of attempting to sneak to the top of the stairs to listen to the argument when there's a knock on his door. He spins so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, his eyes zeroing in immediately on the girl loitering awkwardly in the doorway.

She's about his age, maybe a year or so older, with black-brown hair that reaches halfway down her back in a wave of curls. She's wearing all black, her clothes form fitting and sports-like, so he almost misses her in the darkness of his room. There's a red alice band holding her hair back from her face, the only splash of colour on her form, and it conjures the image of Little Red Riding Hood to the forefront of his mind for some reason.

"Who're you?" he demands suspiciously, edging back slightly towards his window. He learned a long time ago how to escape through it, so he's ready to move at any second.

The girl grins in a bashful, embarrassed sort of way, and he can't help but notice how her cheeks dimple as she does so, and her hair falls forwards past the alice band as she tips her head forwards in an attempt to hide it in the shadows.

"Well?" he demands again, and her cheeks burn bright red.

"I'm Allison. Allison Argent." The girl sticks her hand out awkwardly for him to shake, the way his father taught him to make friends when he went to kindergarten (he didn't ever use that technique, not that his dad knows - it's probably why he doesn't have many friends).

He eyes her hand for a second, measuring the consequences of doing so, before deciding to take a plunge. He clasps her hand back, noting the callouses on her fingers as he does so. "I'm Stiles. Stilinski."

"Is that a nickname?" Allison snorts despite herself, before immediately looking furious with herself. Her hands clap over her moth with a gasp, and Stiles can't help the laugh that escapes him.

"Of course. No one can pronounce my real name. Except me. And my mom."

"Who does that to their kid?"

Stiles shrugs. "It's my granddad's name, I think."

"Well, we match," Allison says with another smile. It's beginning to become infectious. "Alliterating initials."

"True."

It's then he realises his hand is still extended out, and he quickly lets it drop to his side. Silence reigns in the room. A crack sounds downstairs, suspiciously like skin on skin.

"Why are you in my room?" Stiles asks suddenly. He completely forgot to before.

"Oh!" Allison goes through the whole embarrassed and bashful routine again. "Um. Well- my parents are the ones arguing with your mom? They told me to find you, to let them talk alone. So, here I am."

She throws up her arms in a helpless gesture, and after a moment Stiles lets himself relax, once again crawling onto his bed to lean out against the window sill. He beckons Allison over when she stands still, looking confused.

She gasps the moment she catches sight of the flames. The light glints and flickers a reflection in her eyes, and she seems mesmerised by their intricate dance.

"What's happening?" she asks, and Stiles is momentarily taken back by the...awe in her voice. Fire fascinates him, always has - the way it moves, the way it looks, the way it feels - but most people find it horrifying and terrifying and disgusting. All of those are in her tone, too, just as they're in his thoughts as well. It's one thing to spark flames; it's another thing entirely to murder a whole family.

An involuntary shudder runs down his spine as he tries to imagine what must be going on inside that house right now, and it makes his head spin.

"It's the Hale house," he explains eventually, in what can only be described as a reverent whisper. He points in the distance, and from their perspective his fingers seem to brush the flames.

"Who are the Hales?"

"They've lived on the preserve as long as anyone can remember. Lots of money, keep to themselves."

"Why would someone want to kill them?"

Stiles shrugs, letting his arm fall. "I don't know. Old family, old enemies- maybe. It could be an accident." He doesn't know who's less convinced out of the two of them.

"Allison?" A low, rough voice speaks from beside the door, and Stiles flinches. He was so caught up in the scene by the window that he didn't even notice someone coming.

The man is clearly Allison's father, with the same bright blue eyes, but there's a heavy weight to his shoulders where Allison is all light and floating that suggests weariness, and a clenched jaw that speaks of recent pain and grief.

His suspicions about the talk between his mother and Allison's parents are all the more confirmed.

"It's time to go."

Stiles glances the clock - it's been about half an hour since the Argents arrived. He hadn't realised how long the two of them simply stared at the fire, soaking in the light and grief and heat. The fire feels as if it's nestled itself in his chest.

"Can I see Stiles again?" Allison asks, hands reaching to grip his momentarily. Her fingers are a cold chill against his skin.

Suddenly, Stiles _does_  want to see Allison again. She interests him in a way most people fail to, even in the short amount of time they've been acquainted. And he really wants to know what her parents and his mother have to do with the fire.

"Definitely," he says, before anyone else can get a word in. He shoots her a grin, deliberately avoiding the judgemental, evaluating gaze her father is scanning him with.

"I guess so, then," the older man nods eventually. Stiles watches as some of the tension seems to seep from the his figure. "It's late, Allison. We need to go."

"It was nice to meet you, Allison." He backs up, once again towards the window. The light of the fire flickers shadows against his face.

"You too, Stiles." The smile Allison flashes him as she's being dragged down the hall lights up her whole face, imprints itself on his eyelids. He waits, watching until she's completely out of sight. Listens for the exchange of short, tense conversation downstairs, then the slam of the front door.

He goes back to watching the flames.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why am i posting this already i don't know but oh well (warning this chapter is allison-light)

The fire has burnt itself out by the time Stiles has to leave for school. He's been up all night watching the sky grow lighter, watching the flames flicker and fade below the treeline until there was nothing left but smoke. It shows in the dark smudges under his eyes, stark purple against his pale skin - but neither of his parents are around to notice. His dad hasn't returned from the preserve, and his mom is locked in the study when he finally trudges downstairs.

He might take a few too many adderall on the way to school - but again, who'll notice?

School is the last thing on Stiles' mind right now. He wants to go to the preserve, explore the area of the fire; he wants to listen in on whatever his mother is doing, since she clearly knows more about the fire than she's admitting to anyone; he _really_ wants to email Allison - he found a slip of paper on the kitchen table, her email address scrawled in wobbly, rushed handwriting, and it sits in his pocket like it weighs a tonne.

The news of the fire hasn't spread to the rest of the school yet; everyone else is talking about inane and boring things, such as homework, and the upcoming school trip to the history museum. No one's even noticed that Cora Hale was missing from class today. A shudder goes through Stiles' body when he realises there are two possible reasons for her absence, and he shoves the thought to the back of his mind. He's never personally met Cora - she's one of those quiet people at the back of the classroom - but the idea still makes him feel sick.

Scott, of course, isn't interested either.

"Dude, there was a _fire_. People _died_."

Scott shudders. They're sitting at lunch together, Scott picking nervously at the edges of his sandwich as he tends to do most days, until Stiles steals his food. "Exactly! Why're you so excited about it?"

"Nothing ever happens in this town," Stiles answers like it's obvious - which it is - and grabs Scott's apple. "The last interesting thing that happened was the massacre up by the old distillery - and that happened, like, a year ago.

Scott gives Stiles a weird look and slides the rest of his lunch over to him. "You're really weird, Stiles."

"Thank you." Stiles grins through a mouthful of food.

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

"You're gonna go to the preserve after school, aren't you?"

"Yup."

"Stiles, that's _dangerous_."

Stiles looks at his best friend in disbelief. "I'm nearly ten years old, dude, not five."

"Do you even listen to yourself?"

"Not usually. Takes too much concentration."

"Just - be careful, okay?

"Have you met me, Scotty? Am I ever not careful?"

"Yes."

"Point taken. But I know what I'm doing. And the preserve is full of police, so it'll be fine!"

He pointedly ignores Scott's incredulous look in favour of attempting to shove his sandwich into his mouth whole.

Of course, luck is never on Stiles' side - when school finally finishes, his mother is waiting in the parking lot with the jeep. She's leaning against the door, and the first thing he notices is the dark circles under her eyes, the tight set of her shoulders and jaw, the way her head droops back against the car like she's barely awake.

"Mom!" he bounces up to her, plastering a smile on his face to hide his sinking spirits as he wraps his arms around her waist. Her hair smells of smoke and decay, acrid and eye-watering, along with the distinct scent of her shampoo - she's clearly tried to wash the smell out multiple times since this morning. "What're you doing here?"

"Stopping you from exploring the preserve, dear," she says offhandedly as she climbs into the jeep's driver side. There's a tinge of weariness to her voice that sets Stiles on edge, though he knows it's not directed at him.

"I wasn't going to!" Stiles splutters indignantly. When she hums disbelievingly he sinks into his seat, glaring at the dashboard he can only just see over. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

"I knew letting you watch those movies was a bad idea."

"Star Wars is the highlight of scifi films, mom. I can't call myself a scifi fan if I haven't watched them. Did you know there's a new one coming out in four months?"

"Only because you haven't stopped mentioning it. It's rated PG-13 anyway - you won't be able to watch it."

"As if that will stop me."

"Hm."

They sink into silence as Claudia pulls out of the parking lot, and Stiles takes the time to really look at his mom. She looks _tired_ \- and not just the kind that comes from lack of sleep. It's a bone-deep exhaustion that clings to her very being, entwining itself in every movement she makes. Her grip on the steering wheel is loose and shaky, her shoulders have gone straight from tense to slumped and defeated. Her eyes drift towards the trees on either side of the road, barely seeing.

"What happened last night?" the question slips from his lips before he has a chance to stop it; the effect is instantaneous. Claudia sits up like she's been struck by lightning, her grip on the steering wheel tightening so much her knuckles go white.

"It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? Mom, the Hale house _burned down_ last night. Dad wasn't home this morning. Cora Hale wasn't in school today. I know you're friends with her mom-"

" _I said it doesn't matter!_ " Claudia practically shouts, cutting through Stiles' ramble angrily. "You are  _nine_ , Stiles. This has nothing to do with you, so you will stay out of it. Do you hear me? I don't want you anywhere near this."

Claudia Stilinski can be downright scary when she wants to be - but this is so much more terrifying. Her voice cracks, and her body shakes. Her words seem to bounce off the walls of the car, ringing in Stiles' ears - and for once, he does what she says. He's never seen her sad, doesn't know how to handle the silent tears rolling down her cheeks, smudging her makeup.

He sinks further into his seat, if that's possible, and the rest of the journey is spent in silence.

He knows the identity of at least one of the victims of the fire, now.

* * *

When they get home, his mother locks herself in the study again. Stiles takes the opportunity to take over the computer in the living room - his mother is almost always on it at this time of day - and immediately opens his emails to put Allison's details into his address book. He sends her a quick message to say hi, then turns over to the internet and starts going through the news pages.

There's very little information on the fire - they're still searching the ruins for bodies, as far as he can tell. Five confirmed dead, two alive: Derek and Laura Hale. He recognises them vaguely from the picture provided - he thinks Laura might have babysat him once or twice when he was younger. There's no mention of Cora, or any of the other Hales.

The computer pings suddenly - loudly - and Stiles almost jumps out of his skin as the noise echoes in the empty room.

 

 

 

> _1 New Message from **Allison Argent [allyarrowsargent@hotmail.com]**_ :
> 
> Hi!!! How are you??? I love your email address!! AA xx
> 
>  

He snickers as he reads her message - she has the same love of over-using punctuation as Scott does, and he can almost imagine her dimpled grin on the other side of the screen.

 

 

 

> _To: **Allison Argent [allyarrowsargent@hotmail.com]**_
> 
> _From: **Me [starwarsstiles@yahoo.com]**_ :
> 
> Hey :) i'm good (tired). u? thanks (have you watched the movies?) - yours is pretty cool 2. do u do archery or something? SS
> 
>  

Her reply comes in minutes.

 

 

 

> _To: **Me [starwarsstiles@yahoo.com]**_
> 
> _From: **Allison Argent [allyarrowsargent@hotmail.com]**_ :
> 
> Did you sleep at all?? What happened with the fire??? I'm good (tired too. I got home at 5!!! And I had to go to school!!!) Yeah, I do archery. My parents think it's an important skill/sport to learn. And who HASN'T watched Star Wars?! AA xx

 

 

 

> _To: **Allison Argent [allyarrowsargent@hotmail.com]**_
> 
> _From: **Me [starwarsstiles@yahoo.com]**_ :
> 
> who needs sleep when you have adderall :D where do u live u left at like 3:30?! and wow, archery is pretty badass.
> 
> no one's telling me much about the fire. at least two survivors, at least five dead is all i know. my dad still isn't back yet, and my mom's pretty broken up about everything. anything on ur end?
> 
> my best friend scott hasn't. he thinks it's weird. SS

 

 

 

> _To: **Me [starwarsstiles@yahoo.com]**_
> 
> _From: **Allison Argent [allyarrowsargent@hotmail.com]**_ :
> 
> What's adderall? I live in Sacramento right now, but I think we're moving again soon. My family sell weapons so we're always moving :(
> 
> That's awful oh my gosh, anyone you know??? My parents are being really secretive about it. There's been loads of people at our house all day talking to them and they all sound pretty angry. I think they were involved. Your dad's the sheriff right?
> 
> Your friend is weird. AA xx

 

 

 

> _To: **Allison Argent [allyarrowsargent@hotmail.com]**_
> 
> _From: **Me [starwarsstiles@yahoo.com]**_ :
> 
> i take it for my adhd. makes me concentrate. Sacramento's closer than i thought - means we can meet up more! ur family is so badass i wish i was u.
> 
> my mom's friend, i think, and this girl in my year. no one else seems to know yet. yeh my dad's the sheriff, i think he's been in the preserve all day.
> 
> (Weird is an understatement).
> 
> got 2 go, but talk later :) SS
> 
>  

He switches the computer off just as he hears the latch on the door click open.

"Dad!" He shoves himself away from the computer and runs into the hall, fully prepared to give him the usual tackling hug as he does every time his dad comes home, scared that each time could be the last. He slows to a halt when he sees his dad resting his head against the hallway wall. His figure is slumped - he clearly hasn't slept since the fire first came over the police scanner.

"Dad?"

John Stilinski looks older than Stiles has ever seen him, and Stiles can glean more horror and reality from that single look than a hundred news articles about how painful death by fire can be. He's seen his dad come home after losing someone on the job, but never like this.

"Come here, Stiles," his dad manages, meeting him halfway down the hall and pulling Stiles into a bone-crushing hug as if he might never let go. At this point, Stiles doesn't thik he would mind that.

"How bad is it?" Stiles whispers before he can stop himself. "Is- is Cora Hale alive?"

John sniffs, letting go of Stiles increment by increment. "She hasn't been found yet."

"That means she's dead."

"Not necessarily. There are lots of rooms and tunnels under the house itself-" John cuts himself off as Stiles stares at him. "Most likely, yes."

Stiles feels numb, unsure. He tries to picture his classmate's face, tries to remember what her voice sounded like that one time she answered a question in math. All that comes to him is a frustratingly vague outline.

"Is your mom home?" John asks, distracting Stiles from his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, she's in the study. She keeps shouting at people on the phone. What's going on?"

John's brow furrows in what appears to be a mixture of concern and grief. "Your mom's best friend, she- uh- she didn't make it."

Stiles' heart sinks as his suspicions are confirmed. He's only met Talia Hale a handful of times, at family barbecues and the like, and each time she was incredibly kind and warm.

He tries to imagine what it would be like if Scott had been in that fire; his mind simply refuses to comprehend it, and he feels the sudden urge to damn the usual house rules and burst into the study just to give his mom the largest, warmest hug he can manage.

There's more to whatever's going on, Stiles can tell - his dad doesn't usually worry about his mom's strange behaviour. Something has been fundamentally changed by the occurence of the fire, and Stiles desperately wants to know what.

He has a feeling his dad does, too.

"Try and do your homework, Stiles," John says distractedly, patting Stiles on the shoulders. Before Stiles can protest, he's walked off in the direction of the study, leaving him alone in the hall, lost at what to do.

In the end, he downs another pill and returns to the computer, losing himself mindlessly in research.

He may not have been able to get to the preserve today, but he's sure as hell going to try again tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with/talk with/prompt me at [edelwoodsouls](https://edelwoodsouls.tumblr.com)/[mieczyslawallison](https://mieczyslawallison.tumblr.com), I'm always free to talk :)


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